


Cosmic Love

by ladyblahblah



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, First Time, Kolinahr, M/M, Post-Series Pre-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 09:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyblahblah/pseuds/ladyblahblah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New assignments begin tomorrow.  At the end of their mission, Jim and Spock have one final night together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosmic Love

**Author's Note:**

> So, in return for my lovely new Chahura icon, I promised [](http://bandearg-rois.livejournal.com/profile)[**bandearg_rois**](http://bandearg-rois.livejournal.com/) some angsty first time fic.  What came out was something extremely close to my own established head-canon for this particular point in time.  I was limited here by writing in comment boxes as well as doing this laaaaate at night, but I'm really fond of the premise and may go back to play with it more later on.  Title (as well as overall theme) taken from the song of the same name by Florence + the Machine.

 

 

 

The apartment is dark when he gets home. He tries a lamp, but it's too bright, hurts his eyes. Lets him see the dishes still on the table; two full glasses of brandy and a plate heaped with half-melted chocolate.

He doesn't have an office. Didn't think he'd be staying long enough to need one. He'll have to start apartment-hunting soon. He can't stay here long-term. Can't stay here at all.

 

******************************

 

"Five years." Jim shook his head and set two brandy glasses on the table. He'd forgotten he even _had_ brandy glasses. "I can hardly believe it's over; it feels like we just started."

"Five years is not an overly long span of time. Especially when spent in agreeable company." Spock raised an eyebrow at the dessert plates Jim laid out, layers upon layer of chocolate forming miniature space stations detailed down to the tiny chocolate starships docked around the edge. "Quite fanciful," he said dryly.

"Command sent them over in a gift basket. I think they're just grateful I managed to keep the ship in one piece for so long." He shot Spock a crooked grin and poured the brandy. "Come on. Indulge me this once."

"I am not certain it's wise--"

"One last night between old friends," Jim urged. "Before we're sent our separate ways."

Unease bloomed in his stomach and he firmly shoved the feeling back down. He'd spent the past several months perfecting his ability to do so, refusing to consider the possibility that when he was reassigned Spock might no longer be at his side. That was a worry for the future; his appointment with Nogura was tomorrow, and Jim was fully prepared to beg to keep Spock as his First if that's what it took. But right now Spock was nodding acquiescence and slipping into the chair across the table, so Jim pushed those thoughts from his mind again and sat down to enjoy himself.

"Have you decided what assignment you're going to ask for?"

Spock paused with his fork halfway to his plate, a moment's hesitation that had Jim's heart pounding. Then, "I am still . . . I believe you would say _weighing my options_."

"Sure," Jim nodded. He sipped at his brandy and ignored the way his heart sank. He had hoped . . . well. "You know you'll always be welcome on the _Enterprise_."

Spock's eyebrow twitched upwards as he took a bite of the delicacy on his plate. "You seem quite certain that you will retain her captaincy. Popular theory has you already promoted to Admiral. "

"Listening to gossip, Mr. Spock?"

"Merely keeping apace with crew concern," Spock demurred, and Jim laughed aloud.

"Well, there's no need to worry." A smile spread over Jim's face, wide and slow. "I've got a trick or two up my sleeve."

"Of that," Spock replied with something almost like a smile of his own, "I have no doubt."

Jim took another swallow of brandy. The chocolate starbase on Spock's plate was nearly half gone, and it had loosened him up enough to have him swiping the tip of his tongue across his lower lip in search of a stray speck of chocolate. Jim's entire body seemed to tighten. His fingers had gone nearly white around his glass, a problem he solved by knocking back the rest of the sweet amber liquor in one swallow.

His blood was buzzing from the alcohol and the company, and his fingertips almost seemed to itch. Strictly speaking, they were no longer part of the same command chain. They weren't restricted by regulations at the moment; there was no crew to mind appearances for, no admiralty breathing down their necks. Just the two of them alone in Jim's rented apartment, and every thought that JIm's tried to suppress over the past four and a half years suddenly crowding the air between them.

With a deep breath to clear his head, Jim realized that he had left the brandy bottle on the counter. He rose to retrieve it.

"Any new intel on how long the refit is supposed to take?"

"Since Commander Scott's proposed modifications were accepted, the projected time has doubled. However, if he is put in charge of the engineering teams, I estimate that their efficiency will reduce the necessary time by at least half."

"About the same then," Jim chuckled. He poured himself another glass and set the bottle on the table. "If all goes well, we should be back aboard within a couple of months. Damn, I already can't wait to get back to space."

The hand he clapped on Spock's shoulder should have been nothing. It was a gesture he had offered a hundred times before, a signal of friendly camaraderie. But this time he was sharply aware of the heat of Spock's body, the bone and lean muscle beneath his touch, the faint scent of incense that seemed to cling to the Vulcan's robes. He went still even as Spock did, their eyes locked together as that simple gesture sent the world tilting on its axis.

Spock rose with fluid grace, never attempting to remove Jim's hand from where it rested. They were standing close together now, a breath away from an embrace, Jim's breathing loud in his own ears.

"You know how I think of you," he said.

"I have an idea, yes."

Spock's face was frustratingly impassive, but Jim noticed that he still wasn't moving away.

"You know what I want."

Jim shifted his hand just slightly, letting the side of his thumb brush against the bare skin of Spock's neck. An almost imperceptible shiver erupted beneath his touch, brown eyes turned almost black with sudden need, and yes, _yes_ , this was what Jim was looking for.

His mouth was on Spock's before he'd made the conscious decision to move, tongue teasing apart lips that were only too willing to part for him. He was pressed against Spock from shoulders to thighs, held in place by strong arms. Spock's hands were moving almost greedily over his back, skimming down over his ass with the lightest of touches before sliding up again under his shirt, blazing hot trails across his skin. He was being towed across the apartment, and though a part of him wanted to question how Spock seemed to know exactly where his bedroom was, most of him was focused on the complicated closures keeping Spock's robes on his body.

They were both half-naked by the time they hit the bed, and Spock paused in his ruthless assault on Jim's senses to retrieve the lubricant stashed in the bedside table and press the bottle firmly into JIm's hand.

"Are you sure?" Jim's fingers were trembling as they slid against the heartbeat pounding in Spock's side.

"Yes," Spock said simply.

The entire world had gone bright and sharp, each new image burning its way into his brain. Spock laid out beneath him, pale skin and thick patches of coarse dark hair, cock flushed a dark green as he spread his legs apart. The taste of him, dark and hot and rich against Jim's tongue, Spock's back arching in silent encouragement. The helpeless flutter of thick-lashed lids as Jim's fingers worked him open, lips trailing slowly down the inside of one lean thigh. His own body, tan against Spock's pale one, the sight of his fingers gripping slim hips while sweat pooled at the small of his back and he thrust inside again, again, again.

"Jim." Spock's lips, flushed a deep, impossible red; his eyes wide and fierce, slim fingers digging bruises into JIm's ass. "You make . . . me feel . . ." His eyes slammed shut, head thrown back. "You make me _feel_."

The images are overlaid with others, with every fantasy Jim has ever had of taking Spock like this, years' worth of frustrated desires suddenly realized. His arms and abs are aching, sweat beads his skin and falls when he trembles, and he's never felt better in his life because this, finally _this_. Forbidden fruit fallen into his hands, so much sweeter than he'd even dared imagine. When he comes it's with a burst of almost savage satisfaction, and when he can move again his lips wrap around Spock's cock until hot seed spills over his tongue and they both collapse against the bed in a tangled mess of limbs.

"That . . ." Jim struggled to catch his breath and couldn't help the smug smirk that was tilting up his mouth. "Hell, Spock. I'm getting you back on my ship if I have to fight a horde of Klingons for the old man's amusement."

"An unlikely scenario."

Jim glanced over with a grin to see Spock lying with his eyes closed, chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths, and his smirk softened.

"Yeah. It's worth it, though, if I can have you in my bed like this." His own eyes drifted closed as well. "'s the perfect setup."

A lengthy pause, then, "Indeed." Another pause, and JIm began to drift. "Jim."

"Hmmm."

He heard Spock saying something, but the words didn't register past the haze of exhausted euphoria. Jim let himself slide into sleep without a struggle; if it was important, Spock could tell him again in the morning.

 

***********************************

 

The PADD is still lying on the sofa where he'd left it. The press of a button brings the screen to life again, stark black words against a field of white, the same words Nogura had told him that afternoon.

Gol.

 _Kolinahr_.

Goodbye.

Jim can still see Spock beneath him, still feel his body tight around him.

 _You make me feel_ , Spock had said, and Jim throws the PADD across the room because he should have fucking known.

He'll find a hotel for the night, he decides, and tomorrow he'll start to look for a new apartment.

Something fit for an Admiral.

 

 

 


End file.
